


Step Into the Sun

by FandomMenagerie



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: BAMF Merlin (Merlin), Canon Era, Gen, Magic Revealed, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), OC villain - Freeform, Powerful Merlin (Merlin), Rated T for language, Spells & Enchantments, obviously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:34:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23192509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomMenagerie/pseuds/FandomMenagerie
Summary: The warlock looked upon the gruff, monologuing man with disdain. The man had power, he could feel it, the earth could feel it, but his use of it was contemptible. Magic created, nourished, and destroyed when necessary. It was something gifted, something to be treasured and thankful for. Magic put itself into the bodies of humans as a way to bless them, not to be taken for granted. Magic was a breath of fresh air after nearly drowning, magic was the cries of a newborn baby, magic was a harrowing wind that knocked down everything in its path; magic was not only a tool but the very essence of the world. It could be controlled but not contained.Or, Merlin and the Knights get captured by a sorcerer and Merlin BAMF's them out of the situation.
Relationships: Knights of the Round Table & Merlin (Merlin), Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 42
Kudos: 1086





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, I love BAMF!Merlin and decided to write this. Don't take the magic lore too seriously as I pulled it out of my ass.  
> Also, the title is from Dear Evan Hansen.

Two dozen men stood above Merlin and his friends. The latest trouble, a sorcerer, had taken them by surprise while they were on their way back from a quest. The journey had been demanding: A griffin had been terrorizing the border villages and the scouts the King had sent never came back, prompting him to take personal interest in the beast. In the end, it had taken all the Knights of the Round Table and the King himself to kill the griffin (with a little bit of magic from Merlin).

The Knights were tired and ready to go home, sleepily listening to Percival who was telling stories from his travels as they passed through a clearing, until they heard a crack from the treeline. Looking around warily, the knights of Camelot only had time to put their hands on the pommel of their swords before they were met with an ambush. They fought what looked to be mercenaries, no doubt after the King, killing and wounding many, but in the end they were outnumbered. Now, they had all been bound and were dramatically lined up in front of their newest adversary. He was monologuing, but Merlin had stopped paying attention to it a few sentences in and was instead focusing on the situation around him.

The enemy was none the wiser as he expanded his senses to feel the world around him, an ability he had discovered as a young child. Words faded as he reached out and listened to the sounds of animals scurrying through the undergrowth and the breath of the men around him. Sunlight peeked through the trees, spotlighting patches of ground and the leaves of plants. He could see the dust in the air and smell the remains of the storm from last night. Above the trees a magpie flew, a beetle scuttled underneath fallen leaves on the ground behind him, and in the clearing a quarter of a league away two bunnies ran and played. As his senses pushed further, he felt every movement of every animal, bug, and human. He heard the skittish horses breathing and the blood rushing through the veins of the men beside him. He smelt the streams and dirt a day’s trip away. He saw the warm heart of the forest until its edges gave way to grass or rocks. He tasted the moisture in the air and the decay of the leaves. He was no longer himself, he was no longer confined. The magic of the earth called to him every time he left the city, and every time he journeyed back into the forest he had forgotten what it was like to have something constantly trying to take over his mind, a nagging persistently telling him to give into the magic of the earth. His body and soul held an endless well of magic, but they were conduits as well. The familiar yet foreign magic flowed in and out of him as he did the same to the earth with his magic. The two energies cycled together until it became almost impossible to distinguish the earth’s magic from his own. It was like a breath of fresh air to give in to the burden.

“ _Use me, Emrys_.” The magic whispered to him.

He forced himself into the there and then and allowed himself to tune in to what the vengeful sorcerer was saying, not stopping the cycle of magic.

“ –your blood will water the fields of my new kingdom. No longer will magic users be persecuted for their art! This started with anger and violence and so it shall end.” The passionate man stalked forward, away from his own group of men and toward his bound captives, sword in hand. He turned to The Knights of the Round Table. “Now, if you surrender yourselves to my will, I shall be merciful.” The crazy glint in his eyes shined brighter. “However, if you choose to oppose me, I will kill you along with your precious King,” he smirked devilishly.

The warlock looked upon the gruff, monologuing man with disdain. The man had power, he could feel it, the earth could feel it, but his use of it was contemptible. Magic created, nourished, and destroyed when necessary. It was something gifted, something to be treasured and thankful for. Magic put itself into the bodies of humans as a way to bless them, not to be taken for granted. Magic was a breath of fresh air after nearly drowning, magic was the cries of a newborn baby, magic was a harrowing wind that knocked down everything in its path; magic was not only a tool but the very essence of the world. It could be controlled but not contained.

“I don’t know about you guys, but I don’t really buy his whole “mercy” card.” An insolent voice spoke. He silently agreed with the Knight: His magic could feel the man’s twisted heart.

“I think you’re right, Gwaine,” the calm voice of Elyan goaded, “Compassion seems beyond him to me.”

The sorcerer fumed at the disrespect. He called his magic to him and it cloaked him in its invisible protection, trying to calm him. The Knights continued to provoke their captor, but Emrys was struggling to maintain control and focus on his present. Everything was so much. The birds chirped, the grass grew, the bugs buzzed, the ground vibrated with its barely-contained power. Merlin concentrated on the voices of his friends, on the things he knew. He focused on his friends’ bound limbs, their smirking lips, their knees on the ground. He centered his magic on the being in front of him whose magic was nearly boiling over in rage. Sparks seemed to come off the other man’s body as he struggled to control his emotions and power. The warlock was almost impressed that the deviant hadn’t already slaughtered his friends, but even that thought couldn’t tie his soul down. His focus, however, _was_ grounded when he heard his King speak.

“Rouland,” _So that’s his name_ , Merlin thought, “if you let us go now, I will not chase you, I will not track you down. You just need to free us.”

The furious man, Rouland, laughed hysterically. “And why, King Arthur, would I do such a thing? You are powerless whereas I am a sorcerer! I could kill you and your knights with a wave of my hand! You have no power here, tyrant.” The man continued to talk but Merlin had no time to listen, for he had just processed all the words the devious sorcerer had said. He had threatened the Knights, he had threatened Arthur. How _dare_ this man threaten his King! His senses withdrew slightly as his focus was anchored to the scene going on around him: He, Arthur, and The Knights of the Round Table were in a forest tied at the ankles and wrists. The Knights were each sporting a few minor cuts and bruises, whether they sustained them during the original attack or from goading the man into losing his temper he was unsure; however, what really caught his attention was the sword Rouland held aloft that just barely touched Arthur’s neck. The magic building up inside of him screamed for him to do something, to protect his King no matter what. The feeling overwhelmed him as he remembered Rouland’s words about killing the men he considered his brothers.

“ _Give in_ ,” The magic seemed to say, “ _Do not let the King of Legend be killed_.”

Blood roared in his ears as he watched the insolent man press the sword harder against his King’s throat, allowing a few drops of blood to spill. The warlock felt a calm fall over him. The world around them went still as the earth’s magic running through him obeyed his unspoken command.

Emrys glared at the insignificant sorcerer. “Who are you to be making threats like this?”

The weak man scoffed. “Who are _you_ to talk back to one of the most powerful magic users in the world, boy! I could kill you with only a few words, and you would be powerless to stop me.”

“ _Merlin_ ,” Arthur hissed, “Stay _out_ of this.”

Normally he would roll his eyes and watch the situation spiral out of control until there was enough chaos for him to use magic undetected, but not today. The magic of the earth coursed through his veins alongside his natural abundance of powerful magic. The elements were his to command. Magic was his to command. Because that was what he was: Magic. Rouland had no power here, not against Emrys. Besides, wasn’t it time that Arthur knew the truth? The man was King now, and the two of them had been through so much together: Poisons, sorceresses, magic beasts, and more. Was it not time?

He ignored his King. “Your claims are false; you are not one of the most powerful magic users. In fact, you are quite weak.” Everyone around him gaped at his gall.

“Merlin –” Leon started in a warning tone.

“Not now, Sir Leon.” Emrys scolded. He did not need to be distracted from the bug in front of him. The man who claimed lies like he wanted to claim the throne.

Rouland looked ready to explode. “You have the _audacity_ to –”

Emrys scowled, so different from his usual carefree grin. “ _I_ have the audacity? A magic user like you has no place in this world. You are greedy and selfish and power-hungry. The gods would weep if they saw what people like you did with the magic they possessed today. You pretend to understand magic and righteousness, but you are as bad as the men you seek to exact your revenge upon. You have bastardized magic by your use of it, and your very aura reeks of darkness and pain.” The world remained stilled around them like every living and non-living thing was trying to listen to what Emrys said. “You seek glory from attacking men with no magic and you think the only way to triumph is to kill those who oppose you. You are not worthy of the magic bestowed upon you.”

The silence rang through the forest as everyone tried to process what the young man had just said.

“So, you don’t condemn the use of magic like your brethren?” Rouland asked curiously.

“Magic is neither good nor evil, but it deserves respect,” he replied. The magic inside him urged him to continue, bubbling up in excitement at what was to come. “By terrorizing others with your gift you make people fear magic. You know this, yet you continue to use your magic to make others fear you and it. This is a blatant disrespect of what was graciously given to you.” He had not planned to say such things, but it felt as if Magic was pleading with him to speak the words aloud. Magic had made Emrys her spokesperson. He needed Rouland, and the rest of the men with him, to understand the true nature of magic.

“You speak of matters you do not know.” Sneered the pitiful man. “Camelot’s people are ignorant of magic and its ways, you are just trying to guilt me, boy, don’t think I can’t see what you’re doing!” He turned to the few of his men not killed or incapacitated during the original scuffle, “Kill him.”

The Knights around him shouted protests and Arthur situated himself in front of his best friend as Rouland’s men came toward him.

“Harm a hair on his head and you won’t live to see another dawn.” The monarch threatened.

Seeing his friend stand up for him touched him, but he knew it was time. Emrys could only hide in the shadows for so long; how could he do what magic wanted when he was lying to his friend? Emrys smiled fondly at his King. “I’m sorry.” Is all he could say before he turned to the enemy men and commanded “ _Swefe nu_!” The five lackies instantly fell to the ground, unconscious.

All of the men looked at the skinny boy in shock as the wind broke the silence to caress Emrys’s cheek. The man himself, however, did not look at his friends’ faces and instead said another spell to break his bonds. Rouland gaped at him.

“You-you’re a sorcerer!” He exclaimed.

“Warlock, actually.”

Rouland’s face tightened at the admission. Emrys studied him as he rubbed his sore wrists. The “powerful” man in front of him was relatively young but already had gray hairs in his dark hair and beard. Scars littered his body as he gripped his sword tightly. The sword itself was probably the most flashy thing about him, for his clothes were droll and mismatched; however, he has dull rings on his fingers that looked as if he had stolen them from a careless nobleman; it was clear that this man was a wanderer with delirious ideas of grandeur.

“A warlock. Magic from birth.” Some of the Knights recoiled in shock, “Well, boy, you may have had magic since birth but I was taught from infancy,” Rouland smirked, “and I bet living in a place like Camelot gives you precious little time to increase your skill whereas I have been training freely for over three decades. You are no match for me, little man!”

Emrys doesn’t react visibly. Instead, he commanded nature to life once more. Water flowed, birds chirped, and leaves fluttered once again. He breathed in the scent of the nature around him, of the nature he could feel inside him. The magic of the world was infused in every living and nonliving thing. He called it to him, for he did not want to kill the man. No, he wished to show him, and every other disrespectable mage like him, that magic was not to be trifled with. The wind picked up around their part of the forest, the ground hummed, and his eyes blazed gold.

“No match, huh?” Emrys asked, “If that’s true, then why do you carry a sword?”

Rouland mentally stumbled, unwilling to admit any fault. “Why, because you can never be too prepared!”

Emrys nodded sagely. “Of course.” He then brought his hand up parallel to the ground. Without saying a word, he commanded the roots from the neighboring trees to spring from the ground surrounding the rogue sorcerer. They twined themselves around his feet and legs, making their way up his body like they were racing to the top. Rouland yelled a spell at them, but it did nothing to slow their ascent as they wrapped around his legs and torso. The wind continued to pick up until the men became the eye of a windstorm. Thinking fast, the sorcerer flung a spell desperately at Emrys, hoping to break his concentration.

The roots stopped just as they trapped Rouland’s arms to his side as the warlock threw up a magical barrier to absorb the other man’s curse. The wind, however, howled on as magic cycled through the clearing and the warlock at its center. He looked over his opponent critically before erecting a circular magical shield around the man. His gold eyes watched as Rouland struggled, and when nothing seemed to be working physically, he spoke a spell at Emrys, but his attempts were futile. He shouted spell after spell, but none reached past Emrys’s shield. Recognizing this, Rouland turned his attention to the warlock behind the shield.

“Are you done?” The powerful man asked. Now that he had subdued the other, he hoped to be able to talk sense into the other man.

“For now.” The sorcerer responded, looking warily at the younger man.

“I won’t hurt you as long as you don’t hurt my King,” he insisted. The winds started to die down.

Rouland scoffed.

Emrys leveled a glare at the other man. “I won’t, but that’s not what is important; the important part is you not killing my King.”

“Oh,” Rouland affected a confident tone despite his trapped limbs, “is that all? And, pray tell, why _wouldn’t_ I want to kill your king? He kills magic users like _me_! Like _you_! Why do you serve him?”

Despite the sorcerer’s mocking, Emrys simply focused on the magic running through him. He breathed in, feeling the crispness of the autumn air as he did, and concentrated on the peace that magic had always brought him. He meditated on the magical exchange currently happening, on the rightness of the sharing of power – power meant for his King.

“Arthur is nothing like his father.” The wind had returned to normal. “He has made peace with the druids and rarely executes based on magic alone. He cares deeply for his subjects and his kingdom as a whole. I know that one day that devotion will extend to the magical citizens, as well.”

To be honest, Merlin hadn’t realized that he felt that way until he said it, but he sure as hell wasn’t taking it back now.

“Oh, so we’re all just supposed to wait until King Arthur decides not to murder anymore?!”

Emrys breathed in, the whole world sighing as he exhaled. “Perhaps, bringing your grievances to him in a controlled environment, like, maybe, this one, would be a good idea?”

“I have! I –”

“YOU HAVE NOT!” Emrys yelled, the vines tightening around Rouland’s trapped body. “You ambushed him, threatened to kill him with the intent to carry it out, gave his knights a stupid ultimatum, and tried to monologue us all to death. This is no way to petition the King. Even if you were concerned with your own safety due to the taboo topic, you don’t hire mercenaries to do your bidding.”

“His Majesty,” the older man began sarcastically, “never made it clear that such petitions would be welcomed.”

“The druids.” Was all Merlin said.

At this point, the Knights were watching the exchange like it was the best tournament they had ever seen. Each of them had mixed feelings about Merlin’s magic, but they were all flabbergasted by their friend’s abilities. It was obvious that this man was impressive and powerful, something they never saw in their younger friend. They each wanted to intervene and inject their own incredulousness, but they didn’t know where to start. First, they were surprised, but not shocked, that Merlin interrupted the villain. Surprised, because the sorcerer seemed to have no qualms about killing and they had thought that Merlin cared more about his own life, but not shocked because, c’mon, this is Merlin they were talking about: The weirdest and most insolent person they all had the pleasure of knowing. Second, their minds were blown by the fact that Merlin of all people had magic; how did a boy from a small village learn magic? Third, his magic was impressive, and he surely didn’t learn magic in Camelot. Or did he? At this point, they didn’t know what was possible, and were hesitant to assign certainty to anything. All of them were terribly conflicted except, of course, for Gwaine, who was absolutely delighted at this turn of events.

“That could just be for show!” Rouland grasped desperately, drawing the Knights back into the present.

“No,” Emrys stalked forward, eyes flinty,“You just need an excuse to take out your anger and grief on a man who you think deserves it. Well guess what?” His eyes stained gold and the footprints the warlock left behind smoldered as his magic struggled to contain its host’s ire, “I won’t stand for it.” The mood in the clearing shifted as Rouland and the knights noticed Merlin’s change in attitude. “Now, you’re going to listen to me, okay?"

The older man nodded reluctantly.

“I’m going to let you go, but I will put a temporary spell on you that will block your magic–” The sorcerer quickly looked horrified. “You-you can’t do that! That’s priestess-level magic!”

Emrys ignored him. “–and you will leave here alone. You will go and tell everyone you meet that Arthur Pendragon, the Once and Future King, is protected. You will do this and never hurt anyone ever again. If you do, I will find out, and if I do, I will kill you. Understood?”

Rouland scoffed pitifully, trying to posture. “No non-priestess, not even a warlock, can take away magic.”

“Good thing I’m only pushing it out of your reach for a bit then, isn’t it? Besides, there’s no need to worry about if I’m as powerful as a priestess because I’ve already bested one.”

This caught the attention of everyone in the clearing. It was obvious that Merlin was powerful, but Priestess of the Old Religion powerful?

“Impossible.” The sorcerer insisted.

“Not for me.” Emrys’s eyes still swirled gold as he said this, and though the wind had stopped, the sun coming through the trees seemed to light him in an ethereal glow that they were all only now realizing.

Trapped in a knotting of roots, hair windswept, and staring into the golden eyes of a man who had hid from a king for years and claimed to have bested a priestess, Rouland asked the question on everyone’s mind: “Who are you?”

“Me?” The warlock smiled. “Why, I’m Merlin, but you can call me Emrys.” He started chanting.

The sorcerer’s eyes widened, and if the vines hadn’t been holding him up, he would’ve fallen prostrate on the floor in reverence and terror as Emrys completed the spell to temporarily take away his magic. His eyes reflected this as _Emrys_ recalled the roots and left him free to take his sword and flee. Which is exactly what Rouland did, for he knew that he was no match for the greatest warlock to ever walk the earth.

Closing his eyes, Merlin focused on the world around him. He concentrated on the animals scurrying in the undergrowth, the smell of the streams and dirt leagues away, and the dust in the air. He embraced it all, allowed it all in, before pushing it away. He thanked the earth for its magic and for sharing it with him and enhancing his already impressive power, even if he didn’t end up needing it. Then, he focused on what really mattered: his settling magic, the quieting world around him, and the breaths of the men behind him. The breaths of the men he thought of as brothers: Gwaine, Percival, Elyan, Leon, and Arthur. The men who now knew about his magic.

Who now knew.

Merlin opened his eyes. “Fuck.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin's magic has been exposed, so now what?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to everyone who commented and bookmarked and gave kudos for making me feel brave enough to post a second part! I really appreciate all of the feedback.

The Knights were still kneeling on the ground, tied up by Rouland’s ropes. Now, feeling more stable, Merlin could focus on the immediate world around him -- most importantly, his friends. But, there was also himself to worry about. God, he’d always hoped to never be in this situation, but now that he was here, he couldn’t avoid it.

With a wave of his hand, all of the Knights were released from their restraints. They immediately stood up, their red capes swishing at the sudden movement.

All of them were looking straight at Merlin. Merlin couldn’t meet their eyes, not after the years of lies. How could he face them? It’s not like his secret was unsubstantial -- he didn’t have a clandestine gambling problem or have an undisclosed preference for women's clothing. This was magic, the most treasonous law to break. Merlin had seen sorcerers burned, drowned, and hanged for merely practicing magic, so what would the punishment be for someone who was  _ made  _ of magic? He wasn’t stupid -- no matter what Arthur thought -- he knew that it wasn’t just the magic, either. It was the lies, too. He had lied to his King, to his friend, and what was worse than a liar? After all, the most recent liar was Morgana, and they all knew how horrible she had become. Did he even deserve to be heard out? Was it too much to ask?

“Merlin.” Arthur spoke.

The warlock shifted from foot to foot. “Yes, sire?” Whatever punishment Arthur had for him, he would accept. He knew that what he was was against the law, and he knew that he couldn’t be an exception. Besides, explanations would only make things worse, right? That would only lead to stories of released dragons, vengeful witches, and ruthless murders. 

“Why?” His prince’s voice sounded wrecked, like he had been screaming for hours on end and only just stopped. The clearing was silent, the wind no longer caressing Merlin’s skin, the forest no longer a part of his being. “Why did you learn magic?”

Merlin took a breath and looked down. He may not deserve to give an explanation, but oh, how he wanted to. He wanted to share this part of his life with his friends, he wanted them to know how much he had sacrificed for them. Not that his past actions were done for recognition, no. He did what he did to keep his friends safe, to keep  _ Arthur  _ safe.

“I didn’t.”

“Don’t.” The King scowled.

Merlin looked up. “What?”

Arthur shook his head and took a step toward the warlock. The Knights stayed where they were. “Don’t lie to me.”

Merlin supposed Arthur would normally cut an imposing figure in his bright, silver armor and cascading blood-red cape, but now he just looked small, like he had been betrayed too many times and was bending under the weight of each one. His blue eyes shone with unshed tears.

“I’m not.” Merlin protested weakly.

Arthur drew his sword in a flash and charged up to Merlin, the tip of his blade resting against Merlin’s neck, reminiscent of Rouland holding his sword to Arthur’s neck earlier. The younger man didn’t fight back. He didn’t lift a finger or say a word as the prince’s eyes went from sorrowful to enraged. The Knights finally stirred.

“Sire --”

“Woah, princess, take it easy --”

“Arthur!”

The prince and the warlock ignored the others as they stared into each other's eyes, Arthur’s yelling  _ Why?  _ and Merlin’s crying  _ I’m sorry _ .

“Why?” Arthur repeated.

Merlin knew that Arthur deserved the truth, and he was so sick of lying. He was the most powerful man on Earth, and yet he was so lonely. To let someone in -- even if they didn’t accept him -- was something he had always wanted. He had it in Gaius now, and Lancelot, before he died, but they didn’t compare to Arthur. Arthur, who deserved the truth more than anyone else.

“It’s kind of a long story.”

The prince continued to look at his manservant, as if assessing whether or not to let him speak. Merlin had lied to him, betrayed him by learning magic. Should he trust the words of a liar? Could he? Could anyone? Then again, this was  _ Merlin. _ The same man who had followed Arthur into countless battles and brawls, the man who stood by his side through thick and thin, the closest person Arthur could think of as a friend. If anyone deserved a chance to explain themself, it was him.

Arthur lowered the sword from the warlock’s neck, but did not sheath it. He stepped back to give the younger man some space. “Well?” the prince gestured with his hand toward Merlin, “I’m waiting.”

“Maybe we should all get comfortable, if the story is as long as Merlin suggested.” Gwaine interrupted.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Please, make yourself at home on the forest floor where we just did battle.” He remarked sarcastically. To his confusion, the Knights gathered in front of Merlin and  _ sat down in front of him  _ like bloody children waiting to hear an interesting tale. Merlin looked bemused as well but sat down nonetheless. “For God’s sake.” Athur sheathed his sword and sat down next to Leon.

“Right,” the warlock hedged, “well I suppose I should start by telling you all that I was born with magic.” The Knights all blinked in shock -- that was not what they were expecting to hear. They had heard Rouland say as much earlier, but had been unsure of whether to trust the sorcerer. After all, how could magic be evil if people could be born with it? Surely people aren’t born evil? “I never chose magic, magic chose me.”

“How is that possible?” Leon asked.

“Honestly? I don’t know.” Merlin shrugged. “From what I understand, it’s rare.”

That made the Knights feel a little better but not much. Had they slaughtered people born with magic? People who had no choice? A shiver ran through them all. Perhaps magic wasn’t what they thought it was.

“But, if you were born with magic, why did you come to Camelot?” Elyan inquired.

“Well,” Merlin said, “My magic was starting to get out of control, and my friend Will had found out about it. My mother knew that my magic would only grow stronger, so she sent me to the only other person she knew who could do magic, Gaius.”

The Knights nodded in understanding, though still looked a little perplexed that he would come to Camelot of all places.

“I take it that this is not the first time you used your magic in Camelot.” Arthur stated.

Merlin smiled self-deprecatingly. “No, far from it, actually. I use my magic all of the time, though I mostly used it to protect you and Camelot.”

Before today, Arthur would’ve scoffed at the idea of  _ Merlin  _ being able to seriously protect someone, let alone himself and his kingdom, but with Merlin admitting to having bested a priestess, well, it suddenly didn’t seem too far-fetched.

“You mentioned that you beat a Priestess of the Old Religion, is that true?” It seemed that Elyan had a similar thought process to Arthur.

Merlin shifted uncertainly and looked away from them. “Um, yeah. Yes, it’s true. I defeated a Priestess named Nimueh.”

“How?” Percival finally spoke up.

Merlin blushed and looked around him, as if he didn’t want them to see his face. Why couldn’t the magic of nature be pulling at him now so that he had an excuse to not answer? He pleaded with the world around him, but it was committed to staying still. It’s not that he regretted killing Nimueh, no, she threatened his family and friends, but he wasn’t sure how the Knights would react to how he killed her. After all, it was blatantly magical. Then again, this whole talk was blatantly magical.“I sorta exploded her with lightning.”

The other men gaped at him. 

Gwaine suddenly burst into laughter. The others looked at him in shock, though not surprise. It was just like Gwaine to be disruptive.

“What’s so funny,  _ Sir  _ Gwaine?” Arthur seethed. This was no laughing matter! He had just learned that, not only did his manservant have magic, but he was bloody powerful as well. 

“It’s just, all this time we thought that we had to protect Merlin, when really he was the one protecting us! He can explode people with lightning!”

“It’s not like I make a habit of doing it!” Merlin protested.

The Knights smiled at the indignation on the warlock’s face.

“But, why would you stay?” Arthur’s question quickly sobered everyone up. The world seemed skewed to Arthur. His best friend had been lying to him since the moment they met, was harboring a treasonous secret, and was not, in fact, the weakling he had assumed. Sure, Merlin was a brave idiot, but now Arthur was even more confused. Why was Merlin so loyal if he had magic? Why would he stay in a kingdom that persecuted his kind?

“Well, that’s another long story.”

“Merlin, mate, we are literally on the ground so that you can speak as long as you want.” Gwaine encouraged.

Merlin looked around at the five men in front of him. They all looked eager for his answer, yet Merlin wasn’t sure what to say. Was destiny the reason he stayed? Partially, in the beginning. Was loyalty the reason he stayed? Well, that was a part of it. Though, he supposed, the real reason he stayed was friendship. All of the friends he made in Camelot made life worth living, made magic worth having.

“Friendship,” he decided, “that’s why I stayed. At first it was because I was told that I had a destiny to protect Arthur and Camelot, but really, if it was just that, I would’ve left within months. I stayed then and I stay now because of all the friends I have made, and because I know Arthur will build a bright future for us all.” The warlock smiled brilliantly.

Arthur felt touched and reassured that his friend thought so highly of him.

“I have a question,” Leon spoke. They all turned their attention to him. “Earlier, you told Rouland to call you Emrys, why? And what do you mean “destiny”?”

Merlin blew out a breath. If the Knights rejected any part of his story, it would probably be this. After all, they were men of Camelot and were unlikely to put much stock into whisperings of the Old Religion. “According to the druids, there is a collection of prophecies that foretell the coming of Emrys and The Once and Future King. This king is supposed to unite the lands of Albion and usher in a golden age of peace and prosperity. Emrys is a warlock meant to protect and guide The Once and Future King. It is said that they are two sides of the same coin,” Merlin smirked like he is in on a joke none of them knew about, “and that one cannot succeed without the other. Together they will bring about a time of joy and unity.”

The Knights look at him with wide eyes, for the future Merlin described was all they ever wanted for their kingdom, especially Arthur. The King had only ever wanted peace in his kingdom and for every citizen to lead a fair and just life. The picture his manservant painted sounded better than idealistic, it sounded perfect.

“And I’m this Once and Future King, I suppose?” Arthur ventured, trying to hide the disbelief in his voice.

“Who else would it be?” Asked a bewildered Merlin.

“So your job as Emrys is to guide and protect me?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”

Merlin looked down in shame. “Honestly? At first I knew you would have had me executed, then I worried about you having to choose between me and your father. That wouldn’t’ve been fair to you; to choose between your father and your friend. Then, I was scared. I didn’t want anything to change. I didn’t want you to look at me differently.”

They all nodded in understanding, for it made sense. Though, they all marveled at Merlin’s nobility. Not wanting to come between Arthur and his father even though speaking up could’ve saved him years of lies? They were impressed.

“You weren’t scared that I would turn you in to my father?” Arthur asked in surprise.

“I knew you wouldn’t want me dead.”

To be realistic, Arthur isn’t sure what he would have done back then. Now that he was king and had more experience under his belt he could clearly see that Merlin, no matter his magic, was not evil. Sure, the years of lies stung and his gut reaction to magic wasn’t positive, but this was  _ Merlin. _

“Why now?” Gwaine asked, which was a fair question.

“I’m not sure. I just felt the magic of the Earth pulling at me and decided that it was time for you all to know.”

“Magic of the Earth?” Leon inquired.

“Yes. There’s magic in every living and non-living thing. It flows like a river and enters everything. You can’t get rid of it because it’s just another part of the world, like the wind. You can’t get rid of magic because it’s the fabric that makes up the world.”

They all nodded at that explanation. It didn’t make much sense, if they were being candid, but they knew that, in a conversation on magic, they were severely undereducated.

“What other kind of magic is there? What can you do?” Elyan questioned.

“Well,” Merlin began, “Do you want the short version or the long version?”

The Knights all looked at each other before reaching a consensus. “The long version.” Arthur declared. After all, it would be better to know more, right?

And so Merlin began regaling them with tales of dragons, poisons, vengeful sorcerers, and magical beasts. He explained the situation with Nimueh and Cornelius Sigan, told them about Kilgharrah and his riddles along with meeting his father and watching him die, and he explained the immortal armies he’d vanquished and the hilarity of Arthur under the influence of love spells. With each tale the Knights got more and more awed with their friend. It became clear that, not only was Merlin fierce and powerful, but he had a heart full of love and would do whatever he needed to to protect his friends. And so the day continued as Merlin recounted tale after tale, surprising and entertaining his audience. Even when Merlin did something wrong, they knew it was merely the failings of man and could not be attributed to the supposed evils of magic.

All of Merlin’s stories got Arthur thinking. If what Merlin was saying was true, and he was sure that it was, that meant that magic had been used to protect him and Camelot for years. Without it, according to Merlin, he would be dead dozens of times over. Could something used to save so many be harmful?  _ No _ , Arthur decided. Especially if the person using the magic was Merlin. So, if it wasn’t bad, why should it be banned? While listening to Merlin’s account he was told the truth of his birth and had found out that Morgause hadn’t lied. His father had persecuted magic users not because they were evil, but because he made a decision that came back to bite him. It was clear to the king that magic should no longer be outlawed, let alone on pain of death. He smiled as he listened to Merlin talk about hatching a baby dragon.

_ Yes _ , Arthur thought,  _ It’s time to bring magic back to the land _ .

And so as the sun set, the King of Camelot prepared to usher in a new age of magic, not forgetting the man who helped him come to this realization. Merlin would definitely need a new position, perhaps one with a ridiculously pointy hat.


End file.
